Remembering Howard Zinn

It was a year this past January 27th that my friend, Howard Zinn, passed away in Santa Monica, California. He had sent me an email about meeting up the next day. The next day came and, alone in this recently acquired No Man's Land of his death, it hit me that I would never see Howard again.

I had a good friend call me that night in a panic, "I don't know what to do. What are we going to do? What are we supposed to do with this?" as if Howard was never supposed to die, ever.

The impact that Howard Zinn has had on the world of fair, conscientious people is profound, and the impact that he had as a friend will be forever felt by me and by all those that knew him with the deepest, most visceral tickle imaginable. He was mischievous, fun, childlike, and an appreciator of all things beautiful. My wife was so smitten with him and he knew, in that classy old-school way, how to sustain it. We had spoken about women and how we both felt that they are, ultimately, the keepers of all things good. He was a smart man, a gentle man, and a gentleman.

To admit: I still speak with him at times when I am alone. He brings that kind of solace. It's not exclusive to crisis, no -- it's as a friend, as someone I could always have a laugh with, and as someone who could inspire with the simplest glance. He understood that to bring a smile to someone's face was as important to our well being as was protesting the myriad issues that Howard did. His motive, how it resonated in me, was simply to carve a more loving life for our children and those to follow.